Of Shamrocks and Thistles
by I Hate Wednesdays
Summary: Murphy awakes after a one night stand and can't remember a thing. His mother would have a stroke if she knew he'd slept with a Scottish woman. Murphy/OC
1. Chapter 1

Murphy wasn't sure what had happened. Hell, he couldn't barely remember what happened after those shots of jäger and pint after pint of beer. Hazy memories of Connor giving him the thumbs up as he locked lips with a girl he'd met an hour before. Murphy vaguely remembered talking to a woman. He could picture her lips, full and red like fresh cherries. Her hair smelt like cinnamon and was as soft silk. She was laughing, he had made her laugh? What story had he told her? She was gorgeous, so why the hell was she wasting her time with a nobody like himself?  
Murphy groaned and tried to assess his surroundings. The bed he was laying face first on definitely wasn't his. The sheets were soft and smelt like spring. His arm was hanging off the edge, so it was up off the ground. His other arm reached out and touched something soft and warm. Murphy cracked an eye open, blinking against the gentle rays of morning light peeking in through the blinds.  
There was a woman sitting on the edge of the bed. Flame like locks twisted down her back, bits crazily poking out at odd angles. She was naked, he could clearly tell that from her bare backside. His finger tips had grazed her hip just slightly. The woman glanced over her shoulder before she turned back around, obviously busy with something.  
"I'm surprised ye stuck 'round this long." She said, her voice thick with an accent he recognized as Scottish.  
Murphy sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. "I can't even fuckin' remember me own name. Where the 'ell am I?"  
The woman snorted. "Me apartment. Yer a lightweight. I drank more than ye and I remembered me own address."  
She stood, giving him a good look at her bottom. He noticed a large mural of Scottish thistles and Celtic knots tattooed onto her back. The next thing he noticed was the tiny face peeking over her shoulder. She had a baby.  
Fuck.  
The woman glanced back at him and gestured to the floor with her chin. "Yer clothes are on the floor. Git dressed n' go."  
When she left the room, Murphy punched the mattress a few times before getting off the bed. He must have been extremely drunk last night. Not only that but the woman he had slept with had a baby. He had nothing against her, but if she wanted him gone then... Was she married? The thought of her Scottish husband coming home and kicking his ass made him dress quickly.  
Murphy wandered out of the bed room and into the living room. The woman was dressed now, in a pretty flower print sundress with her hair as wild as ever. She was rocking the baby and cooing to him- by the little blue overalls, Murphy guessed it was a boy. He paused for a moment, watching the mother dance around the room, singling a lovely Scottish lullaby.  
"Where's the lad's father?" Murphy asked, breaking the calming mood.  
The woman didn't miss a beat and continued to sway her hips. "Dead I 'ope. I was raped. Angus 'ere was the result."  
In that moment Murphy was pleased with his work as a Saint. He wanted to clear the streets of the men who had sinned. Hell, he might have actually killed the man that had raped her.  
"What's yer name, love?" He asked softly.  
"Lily," she looked up at him, seeming a little like a deer caught in the headlights. "Lily Mcgregor."  
Murphy nodded and stepped forward. "Well, I'll be seein' ye. If ye ever need anythin' just call."  
She nodded numbly, watching him as he walked out the door. Lily quietly prayed and pressed her lips on her child's forehead.


	2. Chapter 2

Two  
Murphy wasn't sure what was worse: Two Russians trying to kill him first thing in the morning, or Connor telling their mother that Murphy went home with a Scottish woman. More than a few colorful words were spat through the phone by their mother, and Murphy was a little glad he was staying at Rocco's. Ma couldn't call him there.

Saint Paddy's day had been a disaster. Lily had shown up at the pub with her twin sister, Bella. Murphy had hoped to make up for the drunken one-night stand by actually talking to her rather than kissing her. But the bar fight happened and a childish, primal part of him hoped that Lily would be attracted to his fighting skills. Instead, both women had been dragged over the bar by Doc when the fight started and escorted out the back. Murphy didn't even get to say goodbye.

He thought about calling her at the police station to apologize, but he didn't. He knew that if he did call her, he'd have to explain why he was at the station in the first place. Lily probably didn't want some drunk Irishman hanging around her when she had a wee lad to look after.

When he and Connor left the station the next day, he made a point of visiting her. Connor gave him an hour to himself, and after that they had shit to do that didn't involve a pretty redhead. He felt really awkward standing outside Lily's apartment with a pitifully small bouquet with his fist raised to the door. Murphy wasn't really sure why he was standing there trying to make it up to a woman he'd met twice and slept with once, a night he could barely remember.

Swallowing his fears and confusion, Murphy knocked on the door and wordlessly handed Lily the flowers when she opened the door. Angus was resting on her hip, gnawing on a plastic ring and her cheeks were a warm pink color. She let him in while she found a vase for the flowers. The living room was a mess of toys and blankets and papers and paints. Lily laid Angus down under a bar with little hanging bees and butterflies freeing her hands for a few minutes.

"Did I catch ye at a bad time?" He called to her, shuffling nervously in the living room.

"No," she replied, breezing into the room with the flowers in a vase. "I needed the break."

Lily seemed tired and pale. Murphy didn't like how her face was tinted pink and bits of her curled hair stuck to her forehead. He came up behind her while she was busy setting the flowers down on a table next to some photos. When she turned, he was close enough to her to press his palm against her forehead. She was warm, probably had a fever.

"Ye don' look well, love." Murphy said softly, his eyebrows pinching in worry.

"I'm fine." She sighed, moving away from his stare to plop down on the couch. "Besides, I don' 'ave anyone ta look after Angus. I can't afford ta be ill."

"I'll look after the wee lad." Murphy announced, carefully picking the baby up and holding him as tenderly as he could. "Ye git yerself ta bed while I call yer sister. Ye need ta rest."

Lily watched him for a few moments, uneasy about letting a man she'd only met twice care for her son. But Murphy seemed like he wanted to make it up to her. To actually try to have some kind of relationship with her. Which was the first. Normally men ran when she told them she had a child but Murphy didn't and he was even willing to help her with Angus.  
With a sigh she stood, eyeing the man as he tenderly picked up the tiny child and held it tenderly like it was his own.

"C'mon, then." He smiled, pressing his hand on the small of her back and leading her towards her room. "Git ta bed."

Lily let him guide him back to her room, numbly closing her eyes and allowing sleep to wash over her. Murphy smiled, lightly tucking back a curl of crimson hair behind her ear. Something in him compelled him to take care of her. Maybe it was because his own mother had been a single parent. Whatever the reason, he grinned at the thought of a normal life. At having a chance of having a family- fuck the fact that she was a gorgeous Scottish girl and not a lovely Irish woman.

Murphy called Bella and waited on the couch with the baby on his knee. Angus was a strong headed little boy. He had his mother's striking green eyes and the turfs of frizzy hair on top of his head was a pale strawberry color. Whenever Murphy tried to play peek-a-boo with him or wave a stuffed animal in the baby's face, Angus just glared and refused to crack a smile.

"Yer the first."

Murphy turned towards the door, finding Bella leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the pair on the couch. His cheeks went a little pink as he stood to hand the baby to its aunt.

"First fer what?" He questioned, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"The first to stick 'round this long!" Bella chilled, bouncing Angus on her hip and chucking her purse on the couch. "Most guys don' wanna stick 'round a lass with a wee babe."

She poked his chest with a long, slim finger. "Yer tha first to actually care."

**A/N: So I've been toying around with the idea of continuing on with this. And here it is! What spurred me on was a review that told me it was a good idea to carry on with. Cheers!**

**Please review! I love them! Also, if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all!**


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